Meter 310
Chapter 1 The blaring of the morning alarm ripped Mirche from his dream. Sometimes, he was able to recall the contents of his dreams, but not today. In mere moments, the images vanished from his inner eye and all he could recall was a vague feeling of uneasiness. And the tunnels. Mirche knew from experience that there were always tunnels in his dreams. "Get off your ass, Stovanov", he heard a voice from somewhere in the barracks and proceeded to follow that advice. Shoving the itching, gray blanket off, he off the clunky mattress, yawned and lined up with the other soldiers. Slowly, they shuffled forward to receive a rough towel, a piece of gray soap and a toothbrush with pre-applied cleaning paste from a pair of recruits looking even more tired than them. Mirche passed them a sympathetic glance as he walked by as he could remember his own time on morning duty quite vividly. Getting up even before the others, heating the boilers for the showers, hauling crates full of soap and towels around, cooking gruel and bread for thousands of ungrateful, hungry mouths. Yes, he did not miss that time. Though he never had the pleasure of serving with such a pretty girl. Pale, dark hair and big eyes, Mirche threw her a smile which she replied tiredly before he was pushed forward with a gruff "Move your ass, Stojanov" before he could say anything. The line proceeded to the showers, entering through a door over which someone had stenciled 'A Clean Body Pleases The Emperor' and someone else had scribbled 'and the noses of your comrades' in very small font underneath. Mirche stepped under one of the countless iron shower heads dangling on flexible tubes from the ceiling and hit the big, round button in the tiled wall in front of him. Ice cold water drummed on his head, turned scorching hot for a moment and then became tolerably lukewarm. Mirche sighed as the water ran down his body, washed the fatigue from his mind and eventually disappeared in the drain under his feet. Like many others, he used the opportunity to do his morning business right away since the metal grid was wide enough to allow for easy disposal. After that, Mirche had enough time to scrub himself briefly with the biting soap before a signal blared and his standard 5 minutes of shower time were over. He moved on to one of the mirrors installed in rows over square sinks. Dirty blonde hair, receding hairline, pale skin, dark gray eyes, even darker circles under them. Not as pretty as Tihomir, but solid. At least no scars. Brushing teeth, spitting out the grainy paste, back to the barracks. The pretty recruit was gone, which put a slight dent in Mirche's mood and he mused over the chances she'd be here tomorrow again as he slipped into the baggy cargo pants, boots, the ribbed sweater with the too short sleeves and the wadded, padded jacket that made up his uniform. "Mirche!" As he was about to step out into the hallway to get in line for breakfast, he felt a vice like arm wrap around his neck and pull him into a spine crushing headlock. The overwhelming scent of strong, cheap Lho-sticks saved him the effort to try and look for his attacker's face. "Jagoda," he wheezed, trying prevent her arm from crushing his windpipe. "A bit early for your daily attempt to kill me, don't you think?" The woman laughed, flicked his head and let him go. Mirche rubbed his neck as he looked up into Jagoda's square, statue-like face. "Thought I'd get it over with so you don't have to look over your shoulder the whole day, Sergeant." she slapped his back and they made their way to the refectory, getting in line with roughly 100 other soldiers to slowly advance on two giant, steaming pots, one filled with gruel, the other with meat soup. "Did you hear the news? Squad 15 didn't make it back last night, a Kralot got them in tunnel 4-7-2. Only blood on the wall left." "You seem in a pretty good mood despite that, Goda. As usual." The line advanced and Mirche and Jagoda shuffled forward. Across the room, he spotted Tihomir, Ljupco and Milka on a table and waved. "Which Meter?" "100", she replied while exchanging rude gestures and curses with another squad sitting nearby. "Sranje...must have gotten through the vents or something. Emperor have mercy on their souls." Finally it was his turn to take a metal bowl and receive a puddle of gruel in one half and a mass of slimy, semi-liquid meat in the other. Grabbing a piece of the dark, hard bread, he waited for Jagoda to get her share before they made their way to the rest of their squad, designation 19. He sat down between Ljupco, who repeatedly tried to pierce strands of meat with his spork only resulting in it defibering ever further, and Milka who had her nose buried in the Uplifting Primer. Jagoda squeezed down on the other side of the table along with Tihomir, who gave Mirche a quick wink before returning to whistle one of his melodies and let his bread soak in the soup. Mirche decided to ignore Ljupco and his increasingly sour expression for now and turned to Milka instead, the latest addition to their squad. "Which part are you reading, Nikolovski?" She looked up and smiled briefly as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Judging from the rings under her eyes that exceeded his own, she had been up for the majority of the night and reading. "Good morning, Lieutenant Stojanov. I'm studying the instructions about bayonetting. Very interesting, as you know? I hope I get the chance to practice soon." "Hmm, yes, indeed. Bayonetting. You should actually try to stab people in the stomach rather than the throat. Bigger target and will make them bleed out eventually." He could not get over the fact that a woman this pretty was part of his squad. Or that, under her flowing, ebon hair, she seemed interested in few things aside from improving her stabbing and shooting skills. "Oh, I see. Thank you for the advice, Sergeant." She turned back to her lecture, leaving only Ljupco for conversation, as Tihomir was now in conversation with a couple of girls from other squads. He laughed as one reached out to touch his pale blonde curls and the rest of them giggled as she blushed and jolted her hand back. Mirche didn't even bother with Goda. It was a generally bad idea to try talking with her during meal times, given her habit to not stop one while doing the other. "Say, Ljupco. Why the long face? You're used to the breakfast being what it is, you can't tell me that's all behind it." Trying to suppress his taste-buds, Mirche ate a few spoons of gruel along with dipped bread. Nothing he could whole-heartedly describe as 'tasting good', but it filled his stomach and was better than living of the thin tea they brewed in the tunnels. "You haven't heard it yet, Sergeant?" Ljupco looked up under heavy eyelids, scratching the stubbles on his shaved head. A single scar reached from the corner of his right brow all the way to the back of his head, its origin being the subject of numerous bets throughout the platoon. "We were assigned to tunnel 0-1-6. Meter 310." Chapter 2 "Sranje!" Mirche cursed as he felt an ice cold drop of water run down his neck and quickly pushed his collar down to rid himself of the feeling. "What's wrong, Sergeant?" Milka shouted from the opposite side of the train and turned around in her seat to face him. Mirche simply pointed to the ceiling, where water gathered on the underside of rusty pipes and cables and occasionally rained down on the passengers in single drops or long ropes. For almost an hour, they had been driving through this tunnel now, sitting back to back, divided by a thin, steel backrest, on a barely 2 meters wide, small utility train running along the mag-rails in the ground. Despite its size, the vehicle produced an infernal amount of noise, making shouting and yelling necessary for communication. Their car sat right behind the front one, which was operated by a servitor and sent a dim, yellow beam of light just far enough to bridge the puddles of darkness between lamps hanging from the low ceiling. So far, only one other train had passed them in the opposite direction and Mirche and Tihomir, the ones sitting on the left side of the car, had been able to exchange a few quick questions and answers with them. Apparently, the ceiling had given in last night about 2 kilometers ahead and the engineers had been busy trying to clear it for at least two shifts now. What this meant for his squad and how they'd get to their designation, he could only guess. "S2 Proscol, S2 Proscol." The automated vox line of the Servitor ripped Mirche from his thoughts and he turned his head right to look ahead, only to be immediately blinded by the blazing white spotlights of Meter 300. Sandbags piled up from the wall of the tunnel to the rim of the mag-rail on both sides, a fortified position with a Multi-Laser emplacement between them, barb wire everywhere on the ceiling, strong spotlights left and right. Mirche whistled twice, a low and a high tone, the informal signal for troops coming in. The train slowed down as they passed the position and the guards briefly looked up from their gambling to wave or see if they knew someone. Aside Mirche's squad, there had been 3 others on the train, but they had already left on earlier stations. Quickly, they left Meter 300 behind and the train did not slow down at Meter 200 either. Only when Meter 100 came into sight, the sandbags now replaced with elevated ferrocrete barriers and the Multi-Laser complimented by a Heavy Bolter on the left and right wall of the tunnel, did the Servitor curb the speed and they slowly rolled into the station. Illuminated by rows and rows of dim yellow lights rather than the strong spotlights used in the tunnels, the ceiling rested on thick, square pillars, many of them littered with graffiti of prayers or profanities, reports for the missing, inspirational posters or warnings not to litter and always keep a source of light with you. Crates and barrels stood around, observed by clerks with quills and moved into elevators and cargo holds by servitors. "Alright, Milka with me, Goda, Tihomir and Ljupco stay by the train", Mirche said as he got off the train and handed his LasCarbine to Ljupco. "Where are you going, Sergeant?" "Station command. If the tunnel has really collapsed, we won't be able to ride the train all the way. I have to look for a way around it." "How about we just return to the barracks, Sarge? Not our fault that several metric tons of rock block our path", Tihomir interjected, his eyes lazily wandering over the bleak ferrocrete walls of the station. "Because I don't want to get shot for disobeying orders. You really think command is gonna let a few rocks pass as an excuse for us to not get to our assigned post?" He earned only silence in response "I thought so. Now guard the train and make sure no one tries to claim any of our supplies. Come on, Milka." She climbed over the car to meet with Mirche and together, they made their way towards the center of the platform. Their goal was a set of stairs leading down into the belly of the station, flanked by two unusually on edge guardsmen that waved them through after taking a brief look on the envelop with the seal of central command Mirche pulled from his inner pocket. The lower part of the station was far different than its barren, to-the-point counterpart. The lamps' yellow was of a less sickly shade, the floor was comparably clean and the walls were covered in murals depicting either scenes from the history of the Empire itself or Jovk. Mirche couldn't help but notice that the latter seemed to consist entirely of a group of soldiers holding a tunnel against a swirling mass of clawed and fanged monsters. In regular intervals, steel doors or hallways opened from the main corridor and servants and clerks moved busily between them, carrying papers, meals on trays, baskets full of clothes in varying degrees of cleanliness. Mirche's goal was clear however and since all stations had the same core layout, he didn't even need to follow the signs to find the office of the station commander. After a short knock, a voice from inside replied with a curt "In!" The office spoke of wealth, with a thick carpet muffling their steps and a desk made of what looked like real wood taking up the majority of the space in the room. Paintings of soldiers and generals lined the walls, some of which Mirche even recognized. Behind the desk sat a man of great age, a sparse corona of curly, ferrocrete gray hair lining his bald head. Narrow shoulders were hidden under the broad braid of his overcoat and his Kepi hung from the coatrack in a corner by the door. Medals dangled from his chest and he looked at his guests with narrow eyes. By his side stood a young woman in the blue jacket, black bootcut trousers and leather jackboots commonly worn by non-combat personnel. She carried a folder thick with pergaments and occasionally handed one to the commander for him to sign. "Sergeant Mirche Stojanov and Private Milka Nikolovski, 36th home defense regiment, 8th platoon, 3rd squad", Mirche introduced them right away, saluting and taking off his helmet before he was gestured nonchalantly towards one of the chairs. "Major Rumen Filipov", replied the man, signing another paper which was quickly replaced by his aide. "If I can do something for you Lieutenant, make it quick. The tunnel collapsed right outside Meter 200 last night, so you can imagine that I am quite occupied." "Of course, Major. That is why we are here, actually." He fetched the thick plastic envelope from the pocket of his jacket once more and handed it over to Filipov, who broke the seal and gave it a quick read. "Tunnel 0-1-6, huh. I see why you came here. Well, the tunnel is blocked, so the trains don't run, obviously. Not sure what you expect me to do." "I think we could use the maintenance tunnels to circumvent the breach, Sir, as long as the tunnel has not collapsed on the whole length. We'd just need your permission to enter." He gave both Mirche and Milka an intense look, as if he had to judge whether they were up to the task. "I had a few men scout the breach and they confirmed that it's only a few hundred meters long. The comm-lines still operate, so I can tell S3 that you'll be coming on foot. You'll have to carry your supplies yourself, though. So far, I can't say when the tunnel will be open again or when the trains are gonna roll." "Of course, Sir, that won't be a problem. Thank you for your help." Mirche saluted briefly, which the senior officer waved off. "Has the cause been identified yet, Major? I would rather not go around the breach only to drown when I open the first door." "Nothing conclusive yet, Sergeant. The engineers think it was a tremor and I'm just glad we didn't have a water inflow. I'll sign the permit, then you can be off. The Emperor protects." With that, the conversation was basically over and Major Filipov wrote and signed them a brief note that would get them past the guards and into the maintenance tunnels. Then, he complimented them out of his office. Chapter 3 "Everyone, headlamps and flashlights on." Eight lamps flashed to life, illuminating the maintenance tunnel and cutting 5 pale faces out of the darkness. "Ljupco and me take the front, Milka the middle, Tihomir and Goda, watch our rear." Quiet shuffling as the 4 squad members took their positions. "The power supply was damaged, meaning both main and maintenance tunnels are dark, at least until we come into the reach of S3. Stay alert, you know all kinds of things crawl out once the lights are off. Let's go." The maintenance tunnel was just wide enough for two men to walk side by side. Pipes and wainscoted cables ran along the right wall and currently dark, heavy industrial lamps were placed in barred sockets in the ceiling. Every 100 meters, a thick steel door to the left lead into the adjacent tunnels, but the first five were blocked. At the sixth, they were finally lucky and the five soldiers stumbled out into the tunnel, barely able to pierce the all-surrounding darkness. The ground was made from rough, even ferrocrete, with two lines of rails set roughly 5 meter apart from each other and the walls. They had not bothered to reinforce their rocky surface beyond large plasteel beams supporting the dome-like ceiling. "Whew". Tihomir was the first to break the silence. "Never thought I'd go into a dark tunnel with one of you, let alone the whole squad." He laughed mischievously, rubbing the sweat off his brows. While the beau took his helmet off to run a hand through his blonde locks, Goda pointed the muzzle of her flamer into both directions. "What now, are we going to take a look at the collapse? Rare enough that I see one and don't have to clean it up." Mirche pondered briefly before shrugging and leading the others back towards the station. Rare enough that they had some kind of downtime. It just took a couple of steps to reach the site, where heavy rocks, boulders and twisted support beams formed an impenetrable barrier. (WIP)Category:Stories Category:Imperial Guard